


Missing Moments - Hinny

by eleyezeeaye



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hinny, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-03-05 08:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18824674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleyezeeaye/pseuds/eleyezeeaye
Summary: One-shots and drabbles we missed in the original series. All canon-pairings and canon-compliant unless otherwise stated.





	1. Dessert

Ginny adjusted herself on the couch, repositioning the ice pack on her side. In the hour she’d had to herself since she’d gotten home from practice, she hadn’t been able to read more than a paragraph of her book due to the smarting bruise on her hip. She shoved a decorative pillow - a kind but misguided gift from her sister-in-law Fleur - between the arm of the couch and her rear and finally felt relief. 

She’d suffered through a chaser-intensive practice this morning, with every other position acting as beaters to improve the chasers’ dodging. Admittedly, Ginny was flattered by the sheer amount of bludgers that came her way, knowing being targeted meant she needed more of a challenge to be impeded. As it was, she was relieved to have a few moments to herself before - 

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” The front door slammed open with a crash, ushering in a rambunctious wild-haired two-year old followed by an equally wild-haired man. She closed her eyes and smiled, bracing for what she was sure to come next. 

“Mama!” The toddler cried, slamming his entire weight into Ginny’s midsection. He immediately started climbing, willing her to pay attention to him. He continued shouting, both breaking Ginny’s peaceful rest and delighting her. James’ joy was one of her favorite sounds, alongside the cheer of a crowd and the sound of summer rain on the roof. 

Harry laughed, depositing his bag by the door. There’s another of my favorite sounds, Ginny thought. The laughter they now enjoyed had been hard fought and won through years of uncertainty under Tom’s rise to power. Even after the war was over, laughter sometimes felt like a cruel reminder of the childhoods they’d left behind in favor of fighting a war - and the people they’d lost in the process. They had often discussed their fears about this new world, in turns assuring the other that they were okay, that Voldemort was really gone, and that they really were still alive. In the past two years, however, their trepidation was soothed by the unbridled joy and innocence of their son.

“Careful, James, it looks like mum has had a hard day at work.” James slid off of his mother and the couch, running to his box of toys in the corner. Harry leaned over the back of the couch to kiss Ginny tenderly. He pulled away just enough to look at her. “What’d they do to you today?” he said, gesturing to the ice pack. 

“Chaser-focused practice,” she replied. “Bludgers everywhere. Shoulda seen Richards though,” she said with a laugh, “she looks a hell of a lot worse than me. That’s what she gets for what she said to the press last week. And they said I was green when I joined...” 

She deserved it, thought Harry, now gently stroking his wife’s face. “And this shiner here is just another prize of the day?” His thumb grazed over the surface of her cheekbone, causing her to wince. 

“Ow, you git!” She laughed as she said it, soon interrupted by the tiny boy standing in the doorway now testing the feel of the word “git” over and over, getting progressively louder as he gained confidence. 

Harry pressed another soft kiss on Ginny’s forehead before standing upright to playfully shout, “Hey, you! You don’t need to be saying that word!” Harry took off running around the couch, eliciting shrill screams from James. 

Ginny sat up and watched as Harry scooped up his tiny clone, in a fit of giggles, and blew raspberries over his tubby little belly. 

“We can’t be saying those things,” said Harry between raspberries, “or the other mums in the pickup line will really have something to prattle on about.” He set the squealing toddler on the ground to run freely and added, “which reminds me…” 

Harry plopped himself down on the couch next to Ginny, slipping his arm behind her shoulders. “The mums directing the pickup line today asked me if you’d been feeling a bit ill lately.” Ginny swept her hair back behind her neck and settled her head against Harry’s shoulder. “Why would they ask that?” She inquired. 

“Well,” Harry started, watching James crash two toy trains together, “it sounded like you might’ve had a bit of...” he paused, knowing the conversation could take a very different turn if he was not careful, “an interaction with them that left them concerned about how you were feeling.” He’d felt he’d apparently chosen the right words when he felt Ginny tense only slightly. 

“An interaction?,” she snorted. “You mean when I told them where they could shove their requested snack list?” She launched into the story with wild hand movements. Harry smiled. This was just one of the reasons he loved her - her passionate stance on everything from the way the bog roll should face (always away from the wall) to the new team kits for Puddlemere United (she’d made sure to tell their keeper how wretched she thought they were at the beginning of their last match). 

She wasn’t opinionated for the sake of being so, or to spite Harry, as he’d heard several male colleagues felt their wives did. No, she’d grown up in a household where boldness had been her hallmark, to a certain extent to separate herself from her brothers for something other than being the only girl. 

This was her stubbornness, Molly liked to call it, but Harry saw the softer side of this passion too. Whenever they’d have an argument, Ginny was usually the first to back down and ask calmly for Harry to explain his view. She listened so well and so empathetically, often prompting Harry when he couldn’t find the words for his argument against her. 

He let his mind wander to these moments, when he just wanted to scoop her up on the spot and take her to their bed (or right where she was standing), but was soon broken out of this distraction by Ginny lifting off of his chest and shouting, “a bran muffin isn’t going to help your precious little Winifred, Bullstrode, she can barely tell the difference between a glue stick and an ice lollie!” She was panting slightly now, a flush rising on her freckled chest. 

Harry laughed. “Just make sure you’re playing nice at school,” Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but Harry quickly continued, “and I’ll be sure to find someone to tip Illegal Artifacts to the need to re-investigate the Bullstrode residence.” He got up and turned to her, “Now how about some dinner” Her indignance faded softly into a smile, and she gave a playful tap to his bum as he bent to pick Up James. 

He shot a warning glance over his shoulder. “Hey there, save it for dessert.”


	2. Dishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a slightly AU crack-y one shot for my favorite Cuban-Norwegian pal, Johanne. I hope you kicked ass and took names in your exams and that you enjoy this as a reward, regardless of the outcome. Thanks for the great prompt, I highly enjoyed writing about it. 
> 
> Summary: Harry hasn't been hiding his secret from Mrs. Weasley as well as he'd thought.

“COME DOWN FOR SUPPER!”

Harry was always consistently impressed with the ways in which Mrs. Weasley used her magic. From the first time he’d seen her enchanted clock to now with her call from nearly 7 floors below that sounded as if she was knelt by Harry’s bed, he’d wondered if Molly was quietly the most powerful witch he knew. 

Ron was first to the door (as her wanted to be first to the food), and a sound which could have been a herd of centaurs could be heard from the stairs. Most of the Weasley clan and their significant others were at the Burrow in preparation for Fred and Angelina’s wedding, so the bedrooms at the Burrow were chock full of hungry redheads and their mates. 

Harry smiled as a pregnant Fleur passed him, then fell as the last in the line to the kitchen. The table, which Harry remembered was already quite long compared to the tiny one he’d been used to at the Dursley’s, had been enchanted to fit the twenty-plus people that would be here the next night for the rehearsal dinner. Tonight, this left several seats empty by the time Harry arrived at the table, so he had his choice of neighbors. He looked down the table, seeing a spot between Fleur and Percy, I think not, thought Harry. There was a chair at the end of the table just by Angelina and Fred along with Katie and George, but Harry thought better of this placement, as sitting anywhere between the twins usually meant you would find something in your meal that would vastly change your ability to enjoy it.

Luckily for Harry, There was a seat just between Ron and Bill, conveniently placed across the table from Ginny, who was somehow more radiant than he’d seen her all summer. She and Hermione had been assisting Mrs. Weasley conjure flowers and herbs from the garden today for the weekend’s festivities. The sun had been kind to Ginny, giving her a rosy glow on her cheeks and shoulders and… if it was possible, Harry thought, more freckles. Her hair appeared a bit messy, but not quite unkempt as she swept it back off of her face and fastened it into a ponytail. This exposed her neck which Harry…

Ron elbowed Harry in the side, a polite reminder that perhaps he had been gazing a little too longingly at his sister. Harry turned to Ron and chuckled a bit, elbowing him right back. Mrs. Weasley watched them laugh, smiling sweetly, then said a few words about how nice it was to have family here and how wonderful she felt it was that it was constantly growing. 

She was not wrong. To Harry, it seemed like Bill and Fleur’s wedding had just served as a snowball for the family growing. Ever since, Percy had married Audrey, Bill and Fleur had Victoire, Fleur had become pregnant again, Fred had proposed to Angelina, George had started dating Katie again, and Mrs. Weasley was delighted. Incredibly, both Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Harry had kept their own relationships quite quiet and under Mrs. Weasley’s radar simply because Molly had a habit of meddling. 

 

When they’d discussed it, Ron hadn’t actually referred to it as meddling, no, that was simply a euphemism for what he’d referred to as “nosy, prying, snooping, grandchild-crazed Mum!” Hermione tried to reason with Ron, stating that she’d read that trauma such as the war affected people in many ways. She suggested that Molly perhaps only felt that way because she had so much at stake in the war; there were at least eight chances that she would lose someone dear to her in the process of trying to save all of wizarding kind. Ron scoffed at this theory, supposing she just wanted to have a reason to do more knitting for the holidays. 

The secrecy of their relationships had been a blessing regardless. Unlike Fred and George, Ron and Ginny could hang out with Harry and Hermione without feeling constantly watched and scrutinized, despite Ron’s pleas to his mother that they were all in fact “adult witches and wizards now” and didn’t need her interference, to which she responded that in that case, they could cook for themselves. Ron had given up at that, assuring the rest of them that they could just keep to themselves rather than starve.

Starve they didn’t; the twins had cleverly concocted a plan with Angelina that they would continue to be ‘unsure’ of what they would like to have to eat at the wedding, and would need to try everything Mrs. Weasley could manage to cook up. For the last two weeks, the family had eaten like kings (on Fred and George’s hefty shop earnings, of course). Molly had made everything from her classic shepherd’s pie to indian curries to hotpots to burgers and chips. 

That night’s fare was several lasagnes, a beautiful salad from the back garden, and soft garlic rolls. Mouth full of food, Ron nudged Harry and used his eyebrows and a grunt to request another of the rolls. Harry obliged as Hermione frowned on the other side of Ron, and smiled as he remembered all of the feasts, breakfasts, and midnight snacks in which he’d seen Ron with this very face, cheeks stuffed to the brim. 

The meal passed with very little chatter, as Mrs. Weasley had proved once again that she had a knack for all things culinary. Even Fleur, usually an equal-opportunity critic of anyone’s cooking, had complimented the pasta dish as one of her favorites yet. Molly had become quite flushed at this comment, despite trying not to give her delight away as she simply responded, “thank you, dear.” 

Once the dinner and the subsequent strawberry-rhubarb pie had been cleared from the table, Harry found himself drawn to the kitchen, where Ginny was slowly practicing her spells for washing the dishes. Harry placed himself beside her at the counter, just barely brushing his arm against hers as she incanted. The cloth and glass Ginny had been working with both splashed back down into the warm water as she startled, speckling Harry’s glasses with suds. “You ought to not sneak up on people like that, Mr. Potter,” Ginny admonished, turning back to the sink. “People might think you’re up to something.” 

Harry pressed closer to Ginny, seeing her already pink cheeks blush more as he moved. “And what if I am up to something, Miss Weasley?” She snorted slightly under her breath just before becoming rigid at the sound of Mrs. Weasley’s inquiring tone. “Harry? Harry, dear, there you are. Ron is looking for you. The boys are all wanting to play a bit of nighttime quidditch and would like you to join. I know how Ron doesn’t like to play without his favorite seeker.” Her last words sounded a little odd to Harry, but his mind had so far wandered to the pink of Ginny’s skin, he dismissed it.

“I’ll join in a moment, Mrs. Weasley, I just thought I would help Ginny finish these dishes first, you know, earn my keep.” He smiled as he carefully broke contact with Ginny, hoping Mrs. Weasley didn’t see how close they’d been. 

“How many times must I tell you, Harry, call me Molly. You’ve been around our family for long enough, I won’t have you referring to me as if I am just another person you’ve met on the street. Besides,” she added with a whisper, “I imagine you’ll be a part of this family officially soon enough.” She giggled, patting Harry on the shoulder affectionately. Ginny froze next to Harry, seemingly hearing the same intonation in Molly’s voice that Harry had. Was she implying that we’d be married soon?!, thought Ginny. 

Ginny cleared her throat, hoping she could turn this conversation around. “That’s silly, Mum. I’m sure Harry has a million girls after him every time he goes into town. He is the Chosen One after all.” Ginny dropped her head back down towards the sink, ashamed she’d even implied that Harry might be interested in other girls. To her surprise, Molly laughed, now patting Ginny on the back. 

“Now, Ginny, I know I didn’t have as much practice raising young women as I did young men, but surely you have learned the subtle art of observation from me, dear?” Molly leaned against the counter on the opposite side of Ginny from Harry, smiling at her daughter. Ginny carefully set down the plate in her hand and gave her full attention to her mother. “I’m… I’m not sure what you mean, Mum,” she tried, her voice somewhat shaky.

“Well,” continued Molly, “I know you kids think you’re good at hiding things. For instance, I know that Audrey is pregnant with my first grandson at this very moment.” Molly laughed again, seemingly in response to Ginny’s confused and scared look. “And I knew what Angelina was doing when she continued to feign indecision when it came to the wedding menu. Your father is the best example - I can spot it when he’s brought home a new muggle artifact just by watching his right eyebrow,” she smirked, looking pleased with herself. 

“I’ll admit, however, that Harry has always been harder for me to read,” she continued. “He isn’t my natural born son,” she paused as Harry frowned slightly, “oh, I don’t mean it that way, dear, you’re as good as. What I mean is that you’re not my own flesh and blood and it took me a while to see what you were feeling.” 

Suddenly, out of the kitchen window above the sink, six people on brooms appeared. Bill flicked his wand and the window swung open. “Mum, we’ll help them finish them later, just let Harry and Ginny come play. 3-on-3 isn’t nearly as fun.” Molly crossed her arms over her chest and redirected her attention to her eldest son. Ginny used this as an opportunity to shoot a worried glance behind her at Harry, who just seemed confused. “William Weasley, you will not tell me what to do in my own kitchen. Just because you’re a father now doesn’t mean you know everything! I should make you all come in here and do the dishes instead!” 

“Well then,” Fred started. “Guess we’ll be going then,” finished George. Bill gave Harry and Ginny a sympathetic look before flying off towards the paddock, where the rest of them were laughing uncontrollably. Harry watched them with jealousy, thankful that Bill, who knew the true nature of his relationship with Ginny, had tried to save them, but upset he’d given up so soon. 

“As I was saying,” Molly sighed, “I wish you didn’t feel that you had to hide your feelings anymore, Harry.” Harry’s mouth dropped open. He was not ready for this conversation. He wasn’t ready for restriction of his time with Ginny. He already had to balance auror training and spending time with her. “Mrs. Wea - I mean, Molly, I don’t think you understand, I don’t have feelings for -” 

Molly’s face turned stern and she pointed a finger at Harry. “Now Harry, I understand why you would perhaps want to keep this a secret, but I will not have you lying to me. I’ll have you know I am a very kind woman and I -”

“I know you’re kind, but -”

“Don’t interrupt me! I know I can be a little harsh when it comes to the rules in my house and I know you’re aware that we follow quite traditional wizarding customs, but I’m not a fool, and I’m not unreasonable. I know what you’ve been up to.” 

Harry’s heart dropped. She knew. She must know about all the times we’ve been alone in Ginny’s room. She must have seen us kissing outside of the garden shed. She’s probably even - 

“Don’t blame him, Mum, it’s my fault,” Ginny burst, sensing her mother’s growing temper. Harry wished she hadn’t said that. Harry knew from experience with Ron, if he took the blame for something rather than one of the Weasley children, the punishment was usually less severe. He knew that Ginny was just trying to protect him but…

Strangely, Molly started laughing. Cackling, to be more precise. Harry and Ginny glanced at one another, then back at Molly, now doubled over in laughter. “Oh, my,” she laughed. “You’ll really have me believe that you,” she gestured to Ginny, “are the one that encouraged Ron and Harry to become smitten with one another?” Molly broke into another loud guffaw. “That you, Ginny Weasley, who has fancied Harry since the day you met him…” she had to pause to laugh, “YOU are the one that encouraged them to date one another?” 

Ginny’s eyes were now wide and her mouth was hanging wide open. For one, she was not happy with the implication that she was just some lovesick puppy dog that had been constantly chasing after The Boy Who Lived. Secondly, she was irritated at the thought that her own mother couldn’t see that Ron and Harry were just friends. She’d felt for a long time that Ron and Hermione were a lot less subtle about their feelings for one another as opposed to her and Harry. And now her mother thought that Harry just wanted to snog Ron?!

“Mum,” Ginny whined, but Molly was still in a fit of giggles. “MUM!” Ginny bellowed, immediately halting the laughter and summoning Arthur to the entryway of the kitchen. 

“Mum,” Ginny repeated quietly, “Harry is not into Ron. He’s…”

“Well, of course he is, dear,” Molly interrupted, “why else would he spend so much time here with us if he has his own place to stay?” She tipped her head to Harry slightly, adding, “That isn’t to say you aren’t welcome, Harry dear, we love having you, but I know it’s because you love Ron and want - “ 

“IT’S ME, MUM, ME!” Ginny shouted again, this time stepping closer to Molly. “I’m the one dating Harry. I’m the one he fancies, I’m the reason he likes to be here. I’m the one who loves him.” 

Harry’s heart swelled. He’d never heard Ginny say this before, that she loved him. There was something incredibly attractive about hearing her say it, and something even better about her claiming him as her own in this fierce and fiery way. He felt something warm bloom inside him at this proclamation. 

Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, looked as if she might faint. All of the blood had left her face, and her expression mirrored that of Ginny’s earlier - only she had her hand clasped tight over her mouth. Ginny placed her hands delicately on Molly’s shoulders and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Now that we have that out of the way, I think Harry and I will go play with the rest of them.” She jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen doorway, “I think Dad would be more than happy to help you finish these dishes.” 

Ginny brazenly snatched up Harry’s hand and led him towards the back door. As they crossed the yard to retrieve their brooms, Harry faintly heard an “oh my,” coming from the kitchen, but was so entranced by the woman holding his hand, he thought he could have imagined it. 

“I do too, by the way,” Harry said as Ginny grabbed their brooms from the side of the shed. She turned quickly and faced him, eyes bright. 

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entry was edited only by myself, so if you see a glaring mistake, please point it out. Otherwise, be kind. 
> 
> Again, much love to Johanne, the only person I know of that cried more than I did during Avengers: Endgame.


	3. Sway

“Y’know, mate, you can leave that for me and head out if you’d like?”

 

Harry stopped massaging his temples and opened his eyes. Ron was staring him down from the other side of their shared office. Harry rolled his quill slowly in his hand, trying to regain his train of thought to no avail. 

 

“I’ve just got another few inches and I should be done,” Harry sighed. Just before he’d been set to head home for the evening, they’d received a tip for some smugglers he and Ron had been tracking for weeks. He and Ron had left immediately despite Harry having plans to join Ginny for the wedding of one of her fellow chasers. He hadn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of going with her; it seemed that any large gathering usually ended up with Harry being accosted by those wanting him to recount his ‘glory days.’ Harry remembered those days a lot differently than the general public. 

 

“Ginny’s not going to be happy if you don’t show,” Ron persisted. “You know she likes a dance partner at those things.” He cocked an eyebrow, looking amused. 

 

Harry did know. They’d been to what seemed like endless weddings since the end of the war; at each, Ginny’d insisted they make up for the strange dance they’d shared at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. 

 

Placing his quill into his ink bottle, Harry surrendered. He wasn’t about to admit it to Ron, but he did quite enjoy dancing with Ginny. Even the dullest weddings were fun with Ginny. Watching her watching her swing and sway to the music never ceased to stir something in his chest -- regardless of how terrible Harry was at dancing, himself. “All right, but I owe you.”

 

“We’re partners. No need to owe me,” Ron offered with a smile. 

 

“Sure,” scoffed Harry. “Remind me of that if Robards tries to send us out on Hermione’s birthday again!” Harry stood and threw his messenger bag over his shoulder and left the office. Ron waved him on with a laugh. 

 

“See you on Sunday,” Harry called over his shoulder. “Thanks again.”

 

~~

 

Harry pulled the collar of his coat up around his neck as the icy wind bit at his face and neck. It was times like this he wished he’d still had his beard. It wasn’t until he got closer to the building that he realized what a strange sight this was: Neon lights streamed from and old, worn barn whose rafters were shaking from a loud bass beat. As he approached the entrance, the beat became louder -- and more oppressive. Harry supposed he should have known that this reception would be quite wild, considering the bride and groom were professional quidditch players whose first date had been a fist fight in a pub. 

 

Harry stepped into a secluded corner of the barn, shading his eyes from the bright green lasers spinning around the dance floor. Taking off his jacket, he swept his eyes across the room, not unlike what he typically did to scope out a location as an auror. Six women around the bride, two men behind the bar, at least seven tables of ten seats each, three exits… and there she was. A petite woman with flowing red hair dressed in a long, green cotton dress. As one song faded into the next, he saw his wife’s face light up as she seemed to recognize the song.

 

She began to twist to the rhythm, raising her beer bottle to her lips to sing along with the woman’s voice as if it were a microphone. Her friends around her laughed and danced along with her, narrowly avoiding being whipped in the face by her hair, now violently shaking side to side with the beat. 

 

Harry wasn’t the only one watching her exuberant performance. Guests began to gather around her, clapping and hooting encouragingly. Just as he was losing his view of her, he saw her kick her shoes off (to Merlin knows where) and hike her dress up above her knees. Then, to the crowd’s excitement (but not Harry’s surprise), she climbed onto the makeshift bar, beer still in hand, and continued her serenading. 

 

Harry crossed his arms, holding his hand over his mouth, stretched into a wide grin. The swirling lights cascaded over her pale skin as she continued to sing, sway, and occasionally play air instruments as the music boomed through the barn. He adored seeing her like this. If there was anything that exemplified Ginny, it was her passion and all-or-nothing attitude when it came to life. Whether she was playing quidditch, cooking dinner, making love, or singing along to a song at a wedding, Ginny was going to give every ounce of her effort. Yet, he thought, she always makes it look absolutely effortless.

 

This was no exception. He knew well from years of knowing Ginny that whether she intended it or not, she was often the center of attention. She didn’t need to stand on a bar, be in front of a stadium full of fans, or be dressed to the nines for this to happen. She radiated wherever she went, and it wasn’t just because of her bright red locks. She was the most gorgeous and effervescent woman Harry’d ever met - bar none. Even at Fleur and Bill’s wedding in a marquee containing no less than ten part-Veela women, Ginny was the most beautiful (in Harry’s very biased opinion at least). 

 

As the song came to a close, the crowd broke into wild applause for Ginny. One of the men Harry presumed to be a groomsman handed Ginny a pint, which she swiftly downed to the chanting of her teammates. 

 

“Admiring anyone?” 

 

Harry was pulled out of his deep concentration on his wife by a woman in a large white dress beside him. “Elena!” He turned to the chaser beside him and embraced her. “Congratulations, so sorry I was late to the festivities.” 

 

“Ah, it’s no matter,” she assured him. “I had a feeling when I saw an owl flying by before the ceremony that someone would be late. Looks like you’ve missed some of the fun,” she said, gesturing to Ginny, now cautiously dismounting the countertop. 

 

“I’m sure I would have just been a stick in the mud and held her back up until now,” Harry laughed. He then caught Ginny’s eye as she was talking to a teammate. “But, I suppose duty calls. Congratulations again, Elena!” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and thanked him, adding “just make sure she gets home safely!” He nodded to her and turned his attention back to Ginny.

 

“Hey there, handsome,” Ginny smirked. “Enjoying the show?” Without giving him time to answer, she pressed her lips sloppily against his. No matter the time, place, or circumstances, her kisses made him positively melt. He felt the stress and strain in his body ease, taking comfort in her presence and contact. 

 

Harry finally broke the kiss, coming up for breath. “Why, yes,” he answered, catching his breath. “From the looks and taste of it, you’re enjoying yourself quite a bit too.” He let a sly little half-smile creep onto his face. She swept hair from her face and behind her shoulders, rolling her eyes. 

 

“I was,” she said, “but I am relieved that you made it before the end so we could get a dance in.” She stumbled a bit on her feet, steadying herself on his arm. Harry raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?” He feigned offense at her assumption, receiving a huff from Ginny with hands on her hips. 

 

“Yes. Dancing with you disguised as my cousin scarred me for life, so now you have to be my partner until the very end of time.” These words suddenly hit a nerve for Harry. They were too familiar, and while all was okay now, they reminded him of a time that he thought he may never see this beautiful woman again. 

 

Ginny thankfully took no notice of Harry’s pause, dragging him unceremoniously onto the dance floor. A slow song began to play, the sound of a piano echoing through the room. Ginny slung her arms haphazardly around Harry’s neck, now rocking back and forth to the words of the song. Ginny closed her eyes as they swayed, humming quietly along with the song. 

 

Harry took this opportunity to take advantage of the view once more. Her hair was a mess of wavy red, framing her face, freckled and pink. The flush continued down her neck and to her breasts, which were perfectly framed by the scoop of her neckline. Her dress was a dark olive green, perfectly complimenting her ivory skin and bright hair, and hugging every curve of her body perfectly. Harry’s hands moved slightly downward from her waist to her hips, which were toned and from hours of riding each day…

 

“Harry?” asked Ginny. “You alright up there?” She tapped on his forehead twice in quick succession, a silly smile on her face. 

 

“Yeah,” Harry blushed. “Just… really attracted to you at the moment.” Ginny wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and pressed herself into him. “I can tell,” she grinned, turning her head and pressing her cheek to his chest. 

 

Harry’s arms curled protectively around her, brushing the bare expanse of her back. This really is a great dress, he thought. He rested his head against hers, taking in the intoxicating smell of her hair. It was the same smell he remembered from long ago in the Burrow. The same smell that came wafting from a cauldron in Slughorn’s classroom in his sixth year. It was the same scent that broke through all the dust and ash and death that surrounded them the day he went to die… and the scent that welcomed him into her arms each time he woke in a panic from seeing that day again and again. 

 

She was, in Harry’s estimation, the main reason he was still alive today. This compassionate, fierce, silly, passionate woman had reminded him time and time again that he was worth loving. He could never thank her enough for what immeasurable gifts she had given him. 

 

He hadn’t noticed the song had changed until Ginny nudged him with the top of her head. “Are we going to keep slow dancing here, or are you going to take me home -” she hiccuped, “and do something about that attraction you’re feeling?” She perked an eyebrow up at him playfully, causing him to chuckle. 

 

“Well I suppose I’d like to get you home, Mrs. Weasley.”

 

~~

 

 

It became quite apparent to Harry that there would be no fooling around to be had that evening. As the couple said their goodbyes on the way home from the wedding, Harry noticed that Ginny had become increasingly unsteady on her feet, to the point that Harry chose to floo instead of apparate home. As they arrived in their flat, Ginny slumped onto the couch, drunkenly humming a song Harry couldn’t quite recognize. 

 

Harry summoned a bottle of water from the kitchen and knelt by Ginny’s side. “Gin?” 

 

“Hmmm?” Ginny hummed, her eyes fluttering open lazily. 

 

“I’ve got some water for you here, it might be good if you’d…” 

 

“Yes, yes, drink some water,” she slurred. “Y’know, Harry, I’ve been a professional quidditch player for years. I know how to keep myself from getting a hangover.” She pushed herself onto her elbows, grabbed the bottle and smiled cheekily. 

 

“Yes,” said Harry, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves. “I’m aware. I’m also aware that you’d do the same for me and have before.” He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I am just returning the favor.” 

 

She replied with a goofy, lopsided smile before taking a sip of the water. It dribbled down her chin messily and he grinned. “Maybe just try to get it all in your mouth, yeah?” 

 

Ginny removed the bottle from her lips and shot him what she imagined to be a mean look, sticking her tongue out at him. “Yes sir!”

 

He stood to walk to the bedroom. “There’s no need to call me sir,” he said, winking. Harry finished changing out of his dress clothes, went to the loo, and returned to see his wife sprawled across the couch, bottle of water slowly draining of its contents in her hand. 

 

With a wave of his wand, the spilled water was returned to its container and set upright on the side table. Harry scooped Ginny up from the couch and carried her into the bedroom. He rid her of her extra garments, causing him to take a sharp intake of breath as he removed her brassiere. Another time, he thought, thinking of her propositioning from earlier. 

 

Harry tucked her into the covers and made his way to his side of the bed. Ginny stirred slightly as he got under the covers, grunting as she threw her arm over her head. Her hair was splayed across the stark white of the pillow beneath her head, the pink of her cheeks still visible from the dancing and alcohol of the night’s festivities. 

 

Harry smoothed a strand of hair off of her face and marveled at her sleeping form and decided he could wait just a little longer until he put out the lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I wrote this, I was listening to my own wedding playlist and imagined that Harry and Ginny were dancing to 'She's Got A Way' by Billy Joel (I recommend the Live version at The Paradise if you're interested). I just love how Harry loves Ginny, don't you?
> 
> Special thanks to Dusk, who kindly made this chapter readable. Thank you for enduring my train of thought!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone out there! This is my first fic in nearly 7 years and my very first in the Harry Potter universe. I wanted to get my bearings with a few short ideas I had/have seen before attempting anything more time-intensive! Please feel free to leave concrit so I can continue to improve!
> 
> -Liza


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